


Eddie Krueger

by cortexikid



Series: Symbiote Cinema: Klyntar's Harshest Critic [3]
Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Eddie is amused, Humor, M/M, V is back on his bullshit, Venom is worried, and shouldn’t watch horror movies when Eddie is working, anxious!symbiote, comforting!eddie, or anything else that doesn’t involve watching movies with V, or sleeping, pre-symbrock, then charmed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 04:54:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17615873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cortexikid/pseuds/cortexikid
Summary: “We are Venom,” he whispered, voice gentler than he thought himself capable, “And we can do whatever we want. And we want to protect—the city, the people...and each other. Together, we can do anything.”Venom thought on that a moment, a pleasant warmth continuing to flow between them.You’re right, Eddie. We will be fine.The reporter chuckled, “Sorry, what was that? Did I hear that correctly? I’m what?”Don’t push it.Eddie is tired. Venom is wired. And nightmares aren’t just on Elm Street.





	Eddie Krueger

**Author's Note:**

> I’m back on my Symbrock bullshit. These idiots I swear. I’m supposed to be sleeping right now. And I’m not being kept up by nightmares, no. I’m kept up until I wrote this down.
> 
> So...hope you enjoy!

_**EDDIE WAKE UP!** _

 

Eddie Brock shot upright as if electrocuted, spilling tea (one of Venom’s concoctions) all over his desk, narrowly missing his open laptop that had been lying idle since he had apparently dozed off mid-sentence.

 

"What the hell, V? It's called a wake-up call, not a wake-up—"

_**Are you okay?** _

 

"What? Why—"

_**ARE YOU OKAY?!** _

 

"Yes! Yeah, Jesus, I'm fine. Calm down,” he dragged a palm over his face, “What the hell got into you when I was resting my eyes?"

 

Venom didn't answer, not even to smarmily correct him that an hour of deep sleep was more than resting the eyes, but Eddie felt him whirling around nonetheless, jumping from place to place in Eddie’s body as if looking for something. He decided to leave him to it, it was time to get ready for bed anyway.

 

He wearily shut his laptop, conceding that his latest venture was a lost cause for now and stood up, stretching widely, a disgruntled satisfaction at hearing the tell-tale pop of his aching bones.

 

“Gotta stop falling asleep at my desk,” he muttered as he shuffled into the bathroom to pee (that goddamn tea would be the death of his bladder) and brush his teeth.

 

**_Gotta stop sleeping. Period._ **

 

“Wha…woz da?” Eddie asked around his toothbrush, spitting paste all over the mirror.

 

Rolling his eyes, he spat the rest into the sink and repeated, “V, what was that?”

 

But the Symbiote had lapsed into silence, distracted by whatever evaluation of the human’s insides he was conducting. Eddie gave another eye roll before relieving himself and stripping off his jeans, lazily throwing them in the laundry basket, stifling another yawn as he glanced at his watch after drying his hands.

 

“Shit.”

 

2:53am.

 

Work was gonna be a bitch.

 

Suppressing a groan, the reporter lowered himself into bed, pulling off his T-shirt and absentmindedly scratching his stomach, something he knew irritated his bodymate for whatever reason, and would no doubt snap him out of his quietness.

 

Or not.

 

Eddie shrugged, making himself not over-think it and lie down. He could deal with whatever was going on with Venom in the morning. After a solid three-and-a-half hours sleep and about a gallon of coffee. Because Tuesday was coffee day. Tea could suck it.  

 

He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to claim him.

 

One minute.

 

Two.

 

Five.

 

“…V? Venom? What’s up, buddy?”

 

Silence met the question that he half-whispered into the gloom of his apartment. It was 3am, he had work in like, five hours, he really didn’t have time for—

 

“Come-come on, V. What is this? The silent treatment again?”

 

—A panic attack. He was having a panic attack. All because his bodymate had been deathly quiet for seven incredibly-long minutes. It was all flooding back, that awful, agonising time when he thought he had lost Venom for good. The isolation. Loneliness. Emptiness. The only thoughts in his head being his own, the emotions he felt, everything being too much and not enough. He never wanted to feel, think, _be_ like that again. Not for one more second.

 

They were Venom.

 

“V, I swear,” Eddie scrambled in the bed, his feet tangling in his sheets as he struggled to sit up, deciding to go on the defensive to try (and probably fail) to smother his worry, “If you don’t answer me in the next five seconds, I’m getting out the dog whis—”

 

**_I’m here, Eddie._ **

 

He did not let out a sigh of relief. Definitely not. Didn’t happen.

**_Did too._ **

 

“Okay Chatty Cathy, you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

**_No._ **

 

He did let out a sigh this time. Just not one of relief.

 

“Fine. Be that way. I’m going to sleep.”

_**NO SLEEP!** _

 

Eddie winced, raising a hand to his temple, “Jesus, what’s with the yelling, huh? It’s late, V. I gotta—”

_**NO.** **SLEEP. EDDIE.** _

 

Panic surged through him like a live wire and that was when Eddie realised that the emotion he was feeling, wasn’t his. Or, more accurately, wasn’t just his. He kicked at the sheets and swung his legs over the side of the bed, speaking lowly, as he had learned to do when his bodymate got worked up.

 

“V…V? Come out here.”

**THE AVERAGE HUMAN BODY CAN SURVIVE WITHOUT SLEEP FOR—**

 

“V!” Eddie hissed, temples throbbing, “Indoor voice, please.”

**—Three days. And that’s just average humans, Eddie. We are not average.**

 

Eddie would not be distracted with flattery, however.

 

“Why don’t you want me to go to sleep, V?”

 

Silence rang in his ears.

 

“Alright then, if you’re not in a sharing mood—” Eddie swung his legs back into bed, calling his bluff, pulling the comforter up over him.

_**NO, EDDIE! YOU WILL DIE!** _

 

There weren’t many remarks that Eddie Brock, as an investigative reporter, was genuinely taken aback by. But shit, Venom seemed to be full of them lately.

 

He was almost afraid to ask.

 

“Uh…die? Die how, Venom? Is there something wrong with—”

_**He’ll get you.** _

 

Yep, there he goes again.

 

“Who’ll get me?”

**_I can’t protect you, Eddie. You’ll be alone. Defenseless. With nothing but your shitty right hook to—_ **

 

“Hey! My right hook is perfectly—nope, no,” he shook his head, “we’re getting off track here. What do you mean you won’t be able to protect me? Protect me from what?”

_**I**   **can’t**   **control**   **your**   **dreams** ,  **Eddie**.  **Not to that extent. **I** won’t be**  **able to shield you from him.**_

Something akin to understanding was beginning to creep into Eddie’s consciousness. Something familiar, ringing in the back of his mind, just like every other time Venom got like this.

 

It hit him like a freight train.

 

“Oh my god, V. You watched _Nightmare on Elm Street_ , didn’t you?”

 

His silence, like all those in their previous conversations, spoke volumes.

 

Another sigh, this one of exasperation escaped from Eddie’s throat as he gestured to his face.

 

“Come out here. Now.”

 

The inky manifestation oozing from his collarbone felt like a sulking toddler that had been told to clean up his room or he’d get no dessert. Eddie fought a smirk as his Symbiote materialized in front of him, face to face, Venom's form barely visible in the dark except for his cloudy gaze that was notably downcast.

 

“Look at me.”

 

Yep. Definite pout on those non-existent lips.

 

That foggy gaze met his own, a mix of petulance and genuine concern swirling in it. 

 

It was that that allowed Eddie to smile gently, reaching out and cupping his bodymate’s approximation of a jaw.

 

“Nightmare on Elm Street is just a movie, bud. A horror movie. Made to scare people. It’s—it’s not real. Freddy Krueger is not real. Monsters are—“

_**Not real?** _

 

Venom tilted his head at him, and Eddie was sure that if he had eyebrows, they would have been quirked knowingly.

_**We**   **know**   **monsters**   **are**   **real** ,  **Eddie**._

_We_   _are_   _one_.

 

That would have been Eddie’s immediate thought, once upon a time, but not anymore. He knew Venom could feel that.

_**We’ve**   **seen**   **them**._

 

Eddie gripped his jaw tighter, leaning closer, his gaze unwavering, “I know, V. But look, even if Krueger was real, I wouldn't be his type. Too old. But luckily for horny teens everywhere, he isn’t. He was thought up by some guy with a sick imagination and played by an actor called Robert Englund. Krueger can’t hurt me. Us. Okay?”

 

A beat. Two. Three.

 

Venom slowly nodded, his orb-like head bobbing mid-air.

 

Relief flowed between them like a waxing river. Warmth spread throughout Eddie’s entire system as his bodymate began to calm.

 

“Good,” Eddie smiled, patting V’s cheek before easing himself back down into bed and trying not to think of the inevitable shrill of his alarm-clock, “does that mean I can go to sleep now?”

 

Venom leaned against him, nuzzling his neck, deciding not to seep back into his skin, craving the safety of their touch, together. Not that he’d ever admit it.

_**Yes** ,  **Eddie**._

 

The reporter hummed, shifting to get comfortable and pressing closer into him. Their breaths mingled in the night air as Eddie found himself staring at the ceiling once more, a thought plaguing him.

 

"Do you dream, V? Can you...” he paused, but forced himself to finish, “…have nightmares?"

He felt his other freeze, searching for a response.

_**Yes. Although, I am awake.** _

 

Eddie fought the urge to turn and look at him, knowing that if he did, the Symbiote would be less likely to continue. So he spoke to the darkness: 

 

"What do you mean? You day-dream, or—"

_**My nightmares come when you sleep. The worry, the fear of what could happen to you—us. It is not...pleasant.** _

Something else flooded through Eddie, then. Something he couldn’t quite put a name to. Or didn’t want to evaluate too closely, half-asleep at 3am.

 

“I worry about that, too,” he admitted, gaze glued to the ceiling that he couldn’t even really see, “but then I remember something.”

 

The Symbiote shifted against him, moving closer into the nape of his neck.

 

_**What?** _

 

“We are Venom,” he whispered, voice gentler than he thought himself capable, “And we can do whatever we want. And we want to protect—the city, the people...and each other. Together, we can do anything.”

 

Venom thought on that a moment, that same something continue to flow between them.

 

**_You’re right, Eddie. We will be fine._ **

 

The reporter chuckled, “Sorry, what was that? Did I hear that correctly? I’m what?”

 

**_Don’t push it._ **

 

With a final sigh, this one of contentment, Eddie finally let his eyes slip closed.

 

“Don’t worry, V,” turning slightly, he mumbled into his pillow, half an inch from him, “I'm not an '80s teen afraid of some pizza-face baddie. And that’s his kryptonite. Just call me Eddie Krueger.”

_**You’re**   **getting lamer, Eddie.**_

__

_**…** _

__

_**Wait. What’s kryptonite? An Earth metal?** _

Eddie chuckled, “Oh, buddy. You just wait. Krueger ain’t got nothin’ on Kent.”

 

 

* * *

 

These idiots will return for Symbrock Fic 4: As-Yet-Untitled-But-Probably-Movie-Related-Nonsense. Stay tuned.

Come yell at me about them on [Tumblr](http://octoberobserver.tumblr.com/).

 


End file.
